


little somethings

by falloutmars



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, aka anything i dont deem good enough for its own upload, all under 1k
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutmars/pseuds/falloutmars
Summary: A collection of shorter works.
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 60
Kudos: 46





	1. (and in the end)

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 1: betty writes a letter to her future self

Dear future self,

At 18, things are tough. I – well, we, I guess – have been through a lot. Serial killers, cults, many near-death experiences. You know all about that, though.

Right now, I’m finding it hard to comprehend what’s about to happen. I’ve just finished senior year and Jughead and I are attending colleges 16 hours apart. I want to make it work, but I don’t know how. With everything that’s happened, how he’s been there for me through it all, I can’t give up now.

I’m writing to me in the future. 5 years’ time. I’m looking for some kind of comfort and hope in what seems like dark times at the moment.

Here goes nothing…

In 5 years time, I hope things have sorted themselves out. I hope that I got to college, got out of that godforsaken hometown, and made something of myself. I hope Jughead and I made it work. Maybe we’ll be living together again. I’ve dreamt of us in a shoebox-sized apartment in NYC, working some dead-end jobs while trying to make it in the city. Him, a published novel. Me, a journalist.

I’m not young and stupid enough anymore to think that will happen. Not when we first started dating. But I hope we’ll be together still.

I don’t know what the future holds. No one does. But… one day, I might look back on this and realize that it’s all worth it.

In reality, I know that if I want this idealistic future, there’s no point in writing to my future self. If I want life to change for the better, there’s only one person that can do that.

So maybe this hasn’t given me the hope I wished for, but it’s certainly given me perspective.

I need to get out there and change things for myself. And if I do find this in the years to come, maybe I’ll need to keep on following my own advice until I get to where I want to be.

– Betty, June ‘20


	2. i'd do it all again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2: betty writes a letter to her younger self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a follow up to chapter 1
> 
> (titles from 1&2 come from fall out boy's the kids aren't alright)

Dear younger self,

You won’t ever read this because even in 2026, that isn’t how the mail works. But… I found your letter, the one you wrote in 2020. I found it in the depths of my childhood bedroom. And so, I’m writing back to tell you that things are better now.

First off, I’m writing this in my very own apartment. It’s not in NYC like you’d hoped back then. Instead, it’s up in Toronto, Canada.

After college, which, yes, you survived – in fact, you did extremely well – you’ll end up in Riverdale again. It isn’t what you wanted, but looking back, it changed everything for the better.

I know this isn’t what you want to hear either, but you and Jughead… it doesn’t work out through college. The 16-hour drive is too much, so you’ll call it quits. But he’ll find himself back in Riverdale at the same time as you, and, well, let’s just say, you’ll find each other again.

You’ll decide together that your hometown isn’t where you want to be, and neither is America, so you’ll decide on Toronto and buy this place.

As I write this, I can hear him in the other room, typing away using the typewriter I bought him for Christmas while we were broken up during high school.

It’s a sound that you’ll have to get used to hearing. At college, you’ll hate it. It will remind you of him and make you feel broken. Please remember, though, you’re not broken. Because now, the sound will make you smile. It will remind you of how much you’ve been through with him, and that promise he made you once you got back together again.

I won’t tell you what that promise was. It can be something for you to look forward to. A reminder that things will get better, no matter how bad they seem in the moment.

There are a lot of other aspects of your life that I don’t want to spoil, either. Your career, for example, isn’t what you wanted, but let me tell you this: you will find something you love in its entirety.

And, well, as for that journey with Jughead, it’s a long one. And you’ll love every minute.

Younger self, you will go through tough times, you will go through times where you want to give up, but in the end, everything works out. I promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated


	3. years ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearing her voice brings back memories of how they parted.

"Jughead! Hey, Jughead?"

It's coming from behind him, a familiar voice that manages to be loud even over the steady thud of music coming from the stereo in the far corner and constant chatter of old friends catching up. 

He wants to turn around, see if it is who he thinks it is. Yet a part of him wants to run. If it is her, he's not sure he's ready to face her. 

In a split-second decision, he chooses the latter. He thinks he can pass it off as not having heard her, so he weaves his way through the crowds and heads out the backdoor. 

Once outside, the cool of the summer evening hits him. It's pleasant. Definitely not too cold, and definitely not too warm like it had been in the day. A welcome cool air, he decides. 

With a deep breath, he starts pacing on the small patio area. 

Coming to a high school reunion party, he knew he was, more likely than not, going to bump into her. It was a stupid decision on his part when he thinks about it, taking the risk. But, you know how it goes, some distant part of his brain manages to convince him that it is a good idea, that he should go, and _hey, maybe seeing her won't be as bad as you think._

Except it is. Hearing her voice after all these years brings everything flooding back to him.

–

_"I'm really sorry, Jug," she whispered, reaching her hand out to touch his face._

_He flinched, moving away from her. "No."_

_She frowned. "It's 16 hours."_

_"Yeah," he scoffed, "did you think I didn't realize?"_

_He did realize. Of course he did. He spent many hours researching the journey between their two colleges, wondering how often he'd be able to make the journey to see her._

We'll make anything work, _she'd promised him earlier in the year, but oh how that changed._

_Tears ran down his face, eyes avoiding hers. If he would've looked at her, maybe he would've realized how much she was hurting too. It wasn't just him, but he thought it was._

_As he stood up and walked towards the door, she called his name. "Jughead!" Her voice was louder than usual, cracking through the space between them._

_"Goodbye, Betty," he spat before he left the room, slamming the door behind him._

–

It had been 5 years since that day. 5 years of regret on his part, regret that he let her do that, that he didn't convince her they'd be able to make it work. But it had also been 5 years of pain.

Still, he wishes things could've been different. He wishes they could've been happy enough to make the distance work, he wishes they would've loved each other enough for it not to have mattered.

Deep down, he knows they did love each other enough. He never doubted how much he loved her or how much she loved him. They were young and stupid, and even after years of going to hell and back, they took things for granted.

Now, if there were any chance they could try again, he knows he would be different. He feels as if their time apart made him stronger, a better person, better for her. 

Reality, he knows, is very different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! as always, kudos and comments are very appreciated.


	4. stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty meets a stranger at a bar.

“And why would I tell _you_ my name?”

“I’m Jughead,” the stranger at the bar offers. “And, before you ask, it’s a nickname.”

Betty stifles a giggle. She doesn’t need any reason for this _Jughead_ to hate her. She knows how this narrative goes: drunk guy at the bar hits on girl, gets angry when she turns him down.

“It’s okay,” he says with a small smile, “you can laugh.”

Shaking her head slightly in shock, she narrows her eyes at him. “I’m not going to laugh at you.”

He shrugs. “I get it a lot.”

Oh. That’s… kind of sad. Now she feels bad for wanting to laugh.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, but she instantly regrets it. She shifts around on her very uncomfortable bar stool, wondering when _(if)_ Veronica will come back and save her any time soon.

Jughead furrows his brows, eyes dropping away from hers. She uses this time to take him in. He’s… surprisingly handsome. She’s shocked that he needs to be this typical guy-at-a-bar, wondering why he can’t just pick up any girl he wants. (Any girl _except_ her, she reminds herself.) Maybe he’s known to be bad at it, or something.

She allows her eyes to rake over him. He’s wearing a beanie, she notices, that looks vaguely like a crown. (Is it just a fashion accessory or is does he fancy himself as some kind of king?) A lock of his hair – dark, soft-looking – hangs out of said beanie, threatening to cover his eye. For some reason, Betty finds herself wanted to reach over and push it out of the way.

Of course, she doesn’t.

His outfit is nice, too. Those suspenders send her mind to dark places, and _goddammit_ why does he have to be so handsome?

“Like what you see?” he smirks, eyes meeting hers again.

_You idiot, he caught you looking. That’s a reason for him to get angry._

“No,” she snaps back, taking her focus back to her drink. She takes a small sip, thanking whoever out there that made her order a juice instead of more alcohol.

Risking a glance towards Jughead, she notes his lack of drink. _Huh_ , she thinks, _weird_.

“Look, uh, Jughead,” she says with an intake of air, “I’m not looking for anything…”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, no, I’m not– Just wanted the company.”

Oh. _Oh._

_Hm._

“Really?” she questions before she realizes how rude she sounds.

His shy nod confirms his innocent actions.

–

“You really thought I was trying to hook up with you?” Jughead asks with a giggle, poking her in the side.

She rolls away from him, pulling the covers with her and hiding her face under them.

He pokes her again. “What was that, Betts?”

“Yes,” she mumbles, voice muffled by the covers.

Tugging them back, he exposes her blushed face and naked body.

“Juggie!” she shrieks. “Give it back!”

He shakes his head, holding them in a death grip. “Admit it.”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs but smiles anyway. “I thought you were trying to hook up with me.”

He smirks triumphantly. “You were wrong then, but you’re right now,” he says lowly as he lets go of the covers and leans down to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are much appreciated.


	5. writer's block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead has writer's block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was inspired by my own writer's block. enjoy...

Writer’s block is _awful._

The blinking cursor on a blinding white screen drives Jughead _mad_. He just wants to be able to write. Anything he types just gets deleted in frustration.

The thing is, he knows he isn’t a particularly bad writer. He’s spent many years doubting his ability, hiding his work from prying eyes, but now, he’s more confident in his ability. _More_ , not entirely.

Having said that, would he really be attending Yale on a writing scholarship if he were _bad_ at writing? Probably not. But maybe part of the reason he’s here is because of Stonewall Prep.

(He tries not to dwell on that. He’s successful only some of the time.) 

Most days, he doesn’t have a problem writing. Words spill from his brain onto the page endlessly. So much so that sometimes he can’t type fast enough to keep up with all of the ideas in his brain. Sometimes he struggles to find enough time to write as much as he wants. 

Other days, he cannot write a single word. As much as he tries, as much as he tries to write every day, it’s so much easier said than done. He just… stares at his laptop screen, brain void of any creativity. 

Today is one of those days. 

He tries every trick under the sun. Use a generator! Take a break! Go for a walk!

Nothing fucking works. 

Nothing will _spark_ creativity or whatever weird phrase the writers of these articles use. 

(The irony of someone being paid to write about writer’s block isn’t lost on him.)

With a frustrated sigh, he leans back on his bed until his head hits his pillow. His laptop falls to the side, and he can’t bring himself to care. He really wants to throw in on the floor, stomp on it until it breaks, smash it into a million pieces. 

He doesn’t. He won’t break something that he spent years saving up to buy.

Instead, he does the only thing that _might_ help his writer’s block. Ring his girlfriend.

(His girlfriend who is regrettably hundreds of miles away, not on the same campus as him as it should’ve been. Stupid fucking Riverdale for ruining everything.)

When she picks up, it isn’t with the happy-to-hear-your-voice tone he usually gets. 

“Jug?” she calls, muffled noise in the background. “I can’t talk right now – can I call back later?”

The disappointment that hits him hurts more than it should’ve. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks!” 

And then she’s gone.

This time, he throws his phone across the small room, satisfied with the thud it makes when it lands in the middle of his carpet.

–

Jughead wakes up to a knocking on his dorm room door and with a twang in his neck. The last thing he remembers is that phone call with Betty, so he must’ve fallen asleep in his upset haze. His laptop is carelessly balancing on the edge of his bed, his phone is still discarded on the floor, and he’s fully clothed. Not usually how he wakes up.

And… oh, yeah. The banging. 

He fumbles for his laptop, just managing to catch it before it falls from under his weight. He pushes the lid down, shoving it on his side table, and stumbles out of bed, all while the knocking continues. 

“Alright,” he mumbles, “I’m coming.”

He sweeps down to pick up his phone, quickly tugging a hand through his hair to make himself at least slightly presentable to whoever the fuck interrupted his well-needed impromptu nap. 

_Ugh_. Why can’t he still be asleep? First writer’s block, then Betty shrugging him off, and now _this_. Not cool, life, not cool.

He only opens the door a slither. 

“What do you– _Oh.”_

“Hey, Jug.”

A smile spreads across his face. He definitely was _not_ expecting to see her today. 

“Betts, why are you–?”

She doesn’t let him finish his sentence, gently kicking the door wider open so she can step forward and press her lips to his. He kisses back immediately, relishing in the feeling of _her_ so easily.

She pulls back. “Sorry for blowing you off earlier, I was driving.”

Oh. _Oh._

That makes so much sense. 

He shrugs. “I have writer’s block.”

“Well then,” she smirks, “good job I know _exactly_ how to help.”

With a giggle, he steps to the side and allows her in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make my day! thank you!


	6. is that okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early relationship kissing.
> 
> (canon compliant fluff)

“I know we have a murder to solve, but,” Jughead says as Betty drives them along route 40, “I really want to kiss you again.”

There’s a pause where she doesn’t reply or react, she simply focuses on driving.

He panics, and in a smaller voice asks, “Is that okay?”

Grays and blacks with a slither of light from the street lamps makes the blush that covers her face visible, even through the darkness.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I really want to kiss you, too”

–

There’s a whirlwind of hidden cars, fires, and missing sisters before the opportunity arises again. A murder investigation, of course, will always win over teenage hormones and emotions when it comes to Betty and Jughead. But who’s to say those can’t go hand in hand?

While investigating Polly’s disappearance, they fall into a routine of flirty banter. It’s as comfortable as always, now with an added knowing between them. 

Their second kiss is after an extensive day of searching for Polly.

Walking her home, they’re hand in hand in hand, discussing a time previously when Polly ran away. He asks where she was hiding then. When Betty thanks him for walking her home, sealed with a kiss, Jughead thinks he could kiss her forever and never get bored. 

–

After Polly is found, Betty and Jughead get more time to themselves. 

Their relationship being public knowledge, whether they wanted it or not, definitely has its advantages. They can hold hands at school without (too many) strange glances, and he even risks a kiss on the cheek at one point before class. 

His nervousness earns him a blushed face and smile that could break hearts. (Hopefully not his.)

After class, Betty pulls him into the Blue & Gold office. A room that’s unofficially theirs, usually forgotten by everyone else, and where it’s definitely not suspicious for them to be alone with the door locked. 

Which is exactly what Betty does. With a smug grin on her face.

“What?” he laughs, throwing his bag under the desk and leaning against it. 

She lets her own bag fall to the ground and walks towards him, occupying the space in between his legs. 

With a sudden wave of confidence, his hands move to rest on her hips. She smiles at the contact, urging her to step even further forward. 

“Is this okay?” she whispers, ducking her head. 

“More than okay.” One of his hands comes up to gently cup her jaw. “Can I kiss you now?”

She nods before closing the gap between their lips, her hands finding their way to rest on his shoulders. 

He melts into it, smiling at the feeling of her lips against his. Undoubtedly, she can feel his smile, smiling too, making it difficult to continue the kiss. 

Pulling back, he full-on grins at her. 

She shakes her head, laughing. “ _Ugh_ , we’re gross.” 

He nods. “You like it.”

With a roll of her eyes, she moves back in to connect their lips, despite both of them smiling too much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


	7. dirty little secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica interrupts.

“Betty!” 

A knock.

“Oh, B!”

Another knock.

“Betty, dear!”

Another knock. A loud sigh.

“Elizabeth Cooper if you do not open this door in ten seconds–”

A hammering on the door.

“–I will have no choice but to use the spare key you so _generously_ gave me. Ten… Nine…”

Betty jolts awake, disturbing the sleeping figure next to her. “Sorry,” she mutters as she untangles herself from underneath his arm. She jumps up, his arm flopping back down on the sofa with a soft thud, and manages to find his abandoned plaid shirt lying around on the floor, shrugging it over her otherwise exposed body.

Scrambling to the door, she takes a second to look back at his dazed, sleepy face and smiles. 

“One…” 

She throws herself at the door, opening it just enough for Veronica to see her face. “You’re, uh, early!” she says, trying not to sound as pissed off as she really is.

Veronica tries to push at the door. “Let me in, B. We need to double-check the documents.”

“I, uh, I’m– Um…” She swallows thickly, closing the small gap in the door ever so slightly. “Oh! Can you do me a favor, V?”

She narrows her eyes. “There isn’t time for favors, Bettykins.”

“It’s important!” She sends Veronica her best puppy dog eyes, the ones that never fail to work on the man half-asleep on her sofa right now. “I ran out of my favorite–” she coughs “–uh… Body lotion!”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs. “I’ll buy you a _better_ one at the resort.”

“No!” Betty snaps. “I mean, I really want that one. Please? They do it in the shop just a couple blocks away.” 

Veronica tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. It’s a classic sign of her suspiciousness. 

“Please, V,” she half-whines, “I promise I’ll be ready by the time you get back.”

Another exaggerated sigh. _“Fine.”_

“Thanks!” she says with a grin as she practically slams the door in Veronica’s face. She waits for a second until she hears the tell-tale sign of her friend’s high heels walking down the corridor before she slumps against the door, muttering, “Fuck.”

Now looking significantly less dazed and sitting up, makeshift blanket pooled around him, the man lets out a breathy laugh. “What was that all about, Betts?”

“Veronica’s taking me away for the weekend and I _forgot_.” She wanders over to him, flopping on the sofa. _“Ugh.”_

“Does she actually have a spare key?”

She nods. “She insisted.”

He lets out another laugh. “Isn’t that… dangerous?” He smirks as she sends him a confused look. “Y’know, for us?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You wanna get caught, Jug?”

Shrugging, he bumps into her with his shoulder. “It certainly makes the thrill of this more exciting.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says but she’s smiling. 

“What would Veronica think if she knew you were hooking up with her boyfriend’s best friend?”

“She thinks we hate each other.”

He brings up a hand to gently trace her jaw with his fingertip while his eyes move across her face. “Yeah, I _really_ hate you,” he whispers before moving forward to connect their lips.

She melts into it, smiling when they part with an almost inaudible _pop_. “I love you, Jug.”

“I love you, too.”

_~fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!


	8. an unexpected visitor

A knock at the door late one Saturday night snaps Jughead out of his writing flow. He sighs, wondering how Reggie keeps forgetting his key. If he’s going to keep bringing his new girlfriend back to their apartment, he could at least take a key. Talk about ruining the moment by waiting for your roommate to open the door for you.

Pulling himself up, laptop shoved to the side, he plods towards the door. He doesn’t look through the peephole – no one ever knocks on the door except for Reggie – but opening it to see a mane of blonde hair is _not_ what he is expecting.

“Betty, what the fuck?” he mutters, the bright lights of the corridor hurting his eyes.

“Nice to see you, too,” she says sarcastically. Her arms are folded across her chest, an overnight bag digging into her shoulder. “I need to come in.” It’s not that Jughead doesn’t like Betty, it’s just they’ve never spent any one-on-one time together. So he needs to keep his guard up. To be honest, he barely lets Reggie know his true self, but all that means is there is no way on this earth he can let Betty in.

“What? No,” he huffs. “Why should I?”

She furrows her eyebrows and frowns. “Please?” Her voice is slightly whiny and she gives him those pleading eyes he cannot and should not give in to.

Except he does. 

Standing to the side, he lets out a short stream of air. “Yeah, okay then.” “Thanks!” she grins as she practically skips inside his apartment. 

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” he mutters, but she isn’t listening. She dumps her bag in the hallway, has already opened his refrigerator, and is pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

“You want one?”

He shakes his head, scowling. “What I do want to know, Cooper, is what you’re doing in my apartment at…” he pulls his phone out “...almost midnight.”

She eyes him as she sips her – _his_ – juice. “They’re so _loud_ , Jug.”

Ah. That’d be Reggie and Veronica, then. 

Reggie, Jughead’s roommate, and Veronica, Betty’s roommate, are dating. It’s new and, well, that means they do nothing but fuck. Jughead isn’t even sure if they like each other in any other way that _isn’t_ sexual. They don’t seem to spend any time outside of the sheets. And usually, _that_ time is spent in Reggie’s bedroom, right next to Jughead’s. 

Perks of being a jock’s roommate, he supposes. 

Last Christmas, Reggie actually bought him a pair of super expensive, noise-canceling headphones. He gets a _lot_ of use out of them. Unfortunately.

Maybe Jughead would get it more if he were that type of guy. Not that he thinks there’s anything wrong with being that way, it’s just… he’s not. Maybe he hasn’t found the right person.

Sometimes, he allows himself to imagine what that _right person_ would look like. And every time, his mind brings up images of the woman in front of him, drinking orange juice and looking unfairly good in what seems to be some kind of pajamas. 

He and Betty wouldn’t work though, he doesn’t think. She’s outgoing, she’s sassy, she’s beautiful. And he’s him. He’s always been a self-labeled weirdo. He’s okay with that most of the time. But sometimes he wishes he were more like Reggie.

There’s nothing stopping him from _trying_ , he supposes…

“And you’re… _not_ ,” he says, adding in an air of faux confidence as he saunters towards her. “Loud, I mean.”

Her gasp is loud in the otherwise quiet room. She leans against the kitchen cupboard, one hand clutching onto her glass and the other gripping the edge of the counter. She swallows audibly. “Guess not.”

He stops right next to her. “That’s a shame, Betty.”

“Never found the right guy.”

He hums, allowing his fingers to skim over hers, going white from her harsh grip on the counter. “Could Archie not make you scream?”

She shakes her head, keeping her focus straight away. “Jealous, Jughead?”

“Never,” he whispers in her ear, making her shiver.

As he moves away, he notices the way her eyes are now closed, her head tilted back, and mouth open ever so slightly. 

“Although I can be,” he says lowly.

She opens her eyes, turning to meet his. The hand holding the glass seems to move on its own, sliding the glass across the counter before bringing it up to thumb the edge of his suspender. 

“What I want to know is,” she says, glancing down, “why you’re wearing suspenders when you’re apparently home alone.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Almost as if I planned this, huh?”

She blinks in disbelief. “And did you?” 

“Would it matter if I didn’t?”

Looking at him dead in the eye, she smirks. “And what if I did?”

He swallows thickly, and murmurs, “Fucking hot.”

The grin that earns him could be used to light up the world. 

She holds her hand out, which he takes, bringing the other up to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. “Do you want this, Jughead?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation.

“Well then…” She drags him over to the sofa, pulling him on top of her. “Show me how to be loud.” 

He silences her with his lips.

_~fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed a slice of happiness in strange times~


	9. all for a beanie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knitting-related incident.

Betty lays on Jughead’s side of the bed. She misses him. Stonewall Prep takes up too much of his time, and she just wants him back here with her.

His pillow doesn’t smell of him anymore. That’s what she gets for sleeping on it all week, she supposes, and she still has to wait another 2 days until he’s home.

 _Sigh_.

Long distance sucks.

(It’s not really long distance. But she’ll allow herself to feel like it is anyway.)

With a loud sigh, she rolls off the bed and starts pacing around the room. She wants a distraction, something to take her mind off her moping.

On her fifth back-and-forth, she comes up with the idea.

She practically sprints downstairs to where her mom is watching TV. “Mom!” she calls, breathless. “Where’s the knitting stuff?”

–

Jughead arrives back early on Saturday morning. The house is eerily quiet, so he assumes everyone is still asleep. He sneaks upstairs in the hope to find his girlfriend he’s been missing so much.

As the door creaks open, he notices Betty sitting up, furrowed brows, as she concentrates on something in her lap.

He creeps in quietly without her noticing, sitting down next to her.

She visibly jumps, jerking whatever was in her hands.

At the same time, a small stabbing feeling punctures his hand. “Fuck!” he groans without realizing what it is.

“Jughead!” She pulls the… _something_ away from his hand, throwing it on the side. “Jug, oh my god, I’m sorry.”

He rubs the back of his hand. “What the fuck was that?”

“A knitting needle.”

He blinks in confusion.

“Wait!” she exclaims. “You’re not meant to be here!”

–

“I’m sorry, Jug,” she says, pressing a soft kiss to the actual hole in his hand.

Wrapping his arm around her, he giggles. “I can’t believe you stabbed me with a knitting needle.”

She rolls her eyes. “All for a beanie.”

“All for a _very special_ beanie, Betty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading!!


	10. are betty and jughead dating?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are they dating? Who knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i....don't know

_Are Betty and Jughead dating?_ is a question heard frequently across the small town of Riverdale. It’s usually met with a surprised tone because apparently, it’s so unbelievable that picture-perfect Betty Cooper would date the weirdo of the Southside, Jughead Jones.

News spreads fast in small towns, especially when the subject is the Register’s owner’s daughter. But news from the Register is often met with skepticism, denial, disbelief. And gossip from the Register is almost always ignored. 

The news of Betty dating Jughead was not released by her parents, per se, but through the grapevines of the town, everyone seemed to at least suspect. Yet no one suspected enough to actually believe it.

They started dating in sophomore year. It was a whirlwind of firsts spent and made together, all behind closed doors. The pair thought their relationship might be met with disapproving glares, so they kept it a secret. 

That was until Veronica Lodge caught them making out in the Blue & Gold a year into their relationship. Jughead’s hand had crept down towards the hem of Betty’s skirt, but _thank god_ it didn’t make it beneath. 

It was enough for Veronica to see and confirm her apparent suspicions.

And, well, Veronica finds it difficult to keep her mouth shut at the best of times.

In a turn of events, Betty and Jughead had decided to deny all charges. So just two days later when Kevin asked “Are you guys dating?” Betty gave him her best puppy dog eyes and a shake of the head. 

But Veronica didn’t stop there. After Archie didn’t believe her, after Cheryl didn’t believe her, she went to Betty’s parents.

And that’s where it got tricky. 

So Betty and Jughead got clever. 

A seemingly abandoned underground bunker in the midst of Fox Forest became their safe haven. They could be as loud as possible down there with no worries of anyone walking in on them. They could form a plan for whatever hellscape Veronica and/or Betty’s parents had for them. 

And oh did they. 

They played right into the hands of their nemeses for no other reason than to mess with them. They knew exactly what they were doing.

Late-night dates in Pop’s left Pop himself and whoever the unknowing waitress is that night witnesses to their masterplan. Subtle touches are slyly hidden by the shadows of the darkness, knowing anything seen will be reported back to the Coopers.

After all, in a town where the most powerful people are those who own the media, everyone will do what they say.

Other subtleties include decidedly _less_ subtle outwards of affection. His arm thrown around her, her lips on his cheek, a turn of the head so his lips meet hers. 

And everything makes it back to the Coopers.

And Betty’s all too willing to play their game.

“Are you and Jughead dating?”

“No,” she’ll always reply with a well-timed blush of the face, “we’re _just friends_.”

It’s believable. Because after all, why would anyone believe the youngest Cooper daughter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always thank you for reading!


	11. just say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead needs to just say it.

_Just say it, Jughead. You’ll regret it if you don’t._

It’s something he tells himself a lot around Betty. _Just say it, just tell her._ Yet he never does. Every opportunity he has, he chickens out, his mind whirling with thoughts of _what if?_

_What if she doesn’t think the same? What if she hates you for it? What if it ruins everything?_

And, he supposes, his brain is right. She could hate him, she could never want to see him ever again, and being the only best friend he’s ever had, that isn’t something he wants to risk.

Or is it?

Deep down, he knows he _will_ regret it if he never tells her. He wants to tell her, but he only wants to tell her if it’s something he’s almost certain she reciprocates. 

So he spends his time trying to gauge her reactions to certain actions.

At first, it’s something subtle. A gentle shoulder rub – could easily be passed off as a friendly gesture if it completely backfires. 

“ _Why_ did we take psych, Jug?” she groans during a study session in the library. Her head is thrown forward into her hands, elbows resting on the desk. “It’s just _so_ difficult.”

Welp. She’s not wrong there. 

“But you’re _so_ good at it,” he says in a teasing tone. “And you’re definitely Honey’s favorite.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” is her response.

_Now’s your chance, Jones._

With a shaky hand, he reaches forward across the table. As if he’s moving in slow motion, he nears her shoulder, opening his hand out. He presses down ever so gentle, moving it back and forth in what he hopes is a comforting pattern ( _not_ in a creepy way). 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “we’ll get through it.” _Together_ sits on the end of his tongue, but he keeps it there, not wanting to fully embarrass himself today.

Her head pops up away from her hands. She looks over at him with a sparkle in her eyes and a small smile on her lips. “Thanks, Juggie.”

 _Fuck_. That nickname makes him want to internally combust. The way it rolls off her tongue, the way she’s the only one who has ever called him that and the only one he’ll ever _allow_ to call her that. 

(He loves her, he really fucking does.

 _Fuck._ )

Later that evening, he decides his first attempt at what he has now named as _Operation: Does Betty Reciprocate?_ have gone exceptionally well. She didn’t yank herself away. She didn’t look at him disgustedly. In fact, the way she _did_ look at him has his mind wandering. 

In other ways, he’s starting to think she does feel the same. Or at least similar.

Which is terrifying.

Perhaps more terrifying than her not feeling the same.

_Oh no._

He takes a few days off from Operation: Does Betty Reciprocate? – both for his own sake and for hers. He tries to act as normal as possible. Well, as normal as _he_ is, which isn’t very, but that seems to be something Betty _likes_. Surprisingly enough. 

At the weekend, they hang out in a setting that is away from college and away from college work. Some may consider it a date, but not Jughead. At least not yet. They’re at their favorite off-campus diner eating as much greasy food as possible and talking about the latest show they’re watching. It’s fun and it’s easy. It always is with Betty.

It’s dark outside when they’re walking back to campus. Jughead feels… giggly. Giddy. Happy. Drunk off nothing but milkshakes and the darkness cloaking them. It gives him a strange sense of confidence. Like anything he does or says in that moment won’t _really_ mean anything.

So what does he do?

Well, without taking just a second to think about it, to evaluate his actions, he grabs Betty’s hand from its swinging position beside him. 

_Subtle, Jones, really fucking subtle._

He threads his fingers between hers, giving her the chance to pull it away. When she doesn’t, he squeezes it and risks a glance at her. 

She’s looking back at him, smiling. 

“This is nice,” she whispers, bumping their shoulders together.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, it is.”

That night, alone in his own dorm, he decides he _is_ almost certain she feels the same.

Which means… Well, it’s time to tell her.

The thought doesn’t leave him at all. It keeps him awake that night. He’s shitting himself with both nerves and excitement. Nerves because _what if he’s wrong_ and excitement because _what if he’s right._

But either way, he knows he’s got to do it now.

So the following day, exhausted from practically no sleep, he texts Betty.

_Can we meet today? I need to talk to you._

She replies almost immediately. _Of course. Meet me by the fountain in 20?_

 _K,_ he replies. A usual Jughead response. He didn’t want to overdo it, or give himself away, so that’ll do, he thinks. Regardless, he has 20 minutes to overthink his decision now. 

On his speed-walk to the fountain, he goes through approximately 14 different variations of what he could say, how he could say it, and, arguably most importantly, what she could say in response. 

All of them, predictably, leave his brain once he sees her.

She’s wearing a flowy summer dress that comes down to her mid-thigh. Her hair is down, and makeup ever-so-subtle. In other words, she looks absolutely stunning. 

“Hey!” she grins, waving as he approaches her.

Coming to a stop, he can feel every single word in the English language fall out of his brain. 

Except for a few. 

_Just say it_.

(He says it.)

“I like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading!!


	12. when were you gonna tell me?

“When were you gonna tell me?” Betty asks from the other room as soon as he walks through the door.

“What?” he mumbles back, dumping his bag and making his way towards her. 

He isn’t worried, per se. He can’t think of anything he’s done that she doesn’t already know about. Or anything he has forgotten to tell her. So he isn’t worried, just intrigued. 

As he enters their kitchen/living area, he sees her holding a tiny velvet box. 

Oh. Oh yeah. He definitely didn’t tell her about that.

“Or should I say,” she grins, eyes crinkling at the edges, “when were you gonna _ask_ me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated


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